Speaking with a fake English accent, bowing as a dude dressed up as Henry VIII walks by, and wearing bodices or breeches isn't for everyone.

Heck, some folks view the Renaissance fair's costumed participants as just two shades more socially acceptable than midway carnies.

It's a notion that bothers the fair's unpaid actors, but doesn't consume them. If you could get the good people populating the town of "Bridgewater" at this weekend's Fair Oaks Renaissance Tudor Fayre at Fair Oaks Park to break character – which you likely can't – they'd probably tell you that their weekend passion is not any more obsessive than your need to watch 10 hours of football, or to knit two scarves for every blood relative or run two marathons a year.

"My mother took me and I got hooked on it," said Joel Radell, a 29-year-old Natomas resident and office manager most days of the year. This weekend he's a young Henry VIII, married to Catherine of Aragon, but with an eye on Anne Boleyn.

"It's a bit of an escape. It's part social club, part community service," Radell said.

The heart of a Renaissance fair is the dozens of volunteer "re-enactors" who over the course of the event build a Renaissance village, play the town's folk, and then tear down and pack away the village, only to reassemble their shops, inns, and tents in a couple of weekends when they go to the next fair.

"When I first started, I was all of 19 years old," said Raelynn DeBone, who has directed the Fair Oaks event for the last 22 years of its 23-year existence.

As she explained, she went with some friends and was quickly hooked. It's an oft-heard story.

When customers are around, the cast uses "basic fayre accent," saying "good morrows" instead of "what's up?"; "grammarcy" in place of "thank you"; and "privy" when they need a bathroom.

For most, the camaraderie they enjoy after hours is another reason they devote six to 12 weekends a year as fair participants.

Both DeBone and her production partner, Chris Morgan, met their spouses at Renaissance fairs. Morgan even got engaged and married in character before fair crowds.

"What more fitting place to exchange vows?" he said. His friends and family – also in character – knew the vows were real.

Morgan can't stop talking about history – particularly the 16th century – so it is fitting that his wife, Linda, is a history teacher.

Many participants enjoy being guest lecturers on the Renaissance – in period clothing of course.

But what makes a person want to throw on a russet velvet doublet over a fine linen shirt in 100-degree weather? An unscientific survey suggests that some participants are former Dungeons & Dragons players who enjoy watching the movie "Braveheart" and did high school theater. Or they are municipal workers who played high school football. Truth be told, they're hard to categorize.

"There are teachers, lawyers and doctors," DeBone said.

For Mimi Walker, an Elk Grove mental health worker, it's a break from daily life.

For Melinda Coy, a state worker who lives in Natomas, it's a link to her theater roots.

"I love dressing up and playing with swords," offered London Morgan, who lives in the foothills area and is not related to Chris Morgan.

Michael Holquinn of Fresno said he was an introverted child who "grew up living in a fantasy world."

"A lot of people here were introverted at some point," Holquinn said.

Chris Morgan said he grew up hating public speaking and didn't want to draw attention to himself. That all changed as he got to wear a new personality at fairs, he said. The required confidence and swagger eventually creeps into real life, said Morgan, who lives in Dublin.

"It's just a warm, fuzzy feeling," he said, "when you watch someone grow."

Call The Bee's Ed Fletcher, (916) 321-1269.